“I miss what we had. I miss what I wish we had. I miss what I dreamed we had.”
— Cecile —
“ Music completes me, ” His message read, and once again, tears welled up in my eyes.
It was a Sunday night. Instead of sleeping, I lay in bed, scrolling through old chats with Joel, reading and rereading our conversations. I couldn’t stop wondering what kept me tied to him, what kept me holding on, and slowly, I was finding the answers.
“In what way?” I’d asked, innocently.
“Well, it reminds me of Jemmy and our time together. It was beautiful.” How are you supposed to feel when the guy you like keeps talking about another girl, oblivious to your feelings? Back then, it hadn’t hurt much—I had only known him for a week. But now? Now, the pain was unbearable.
“Why do you paint?” I’d asked him once.
“Because it’s all I know how to do besides writing poetry and singing. It’s how I express myself.”
“So many feelings and emotions to express, aren’t there?” I’d teased, not expecting his serious reply.
“You can only imagine.”
I dropped my phone and rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling as my tears fell silently.
“Will it ever stop hurting?” I whispered into the quiet room, remembering my uncle’s words from a few weeks ago.
“Cecile, I know you like Joel and want to be close to him, but you might get hurt,” he’d said with a concerned expression.
“Why do you say that?” I’d asked, brushing it off.
“Close friendships between people of different genders often end in pain and heartbreak. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen, and I don’t want that for you.”
“I’ll be careful, Uncle,” I’d said lightly, not taking him seriously. I wish I had.
But what’s the use of crying over spilled milk?
“I don’t regret falling in love with you, Joel,” the words slipped from my lips as easily as the tears fell from my eyes. I was hurt, more than I could ever describe. He had made me care so deeply, only to ignore me in public, like I didn’t exist. Then, when we were alone, he kissed me hard, as if I was the only thing that mattered. Who does that?
“I just wish I hadn’t fallen so hard…”
***
— Joel —
Fading pictures on the wall.
Shattered dreams in the hall.
Echoes of our past linger.
Holding on, but slipping through
my fingers.
The lyrics blaring through my headphones mirrored my pain.
“What have I done?” The thought haunted me, even after 48 hours. The memory of my actions stayed with me, an unshakable shadow.
Cecile, Jemmy…
I had always been so sure of myself, convinced I’d never make that mistake. But now? Now, I was crushed under the weight of my own guilt.
How could I have mistaken her for you, Jemmy?
I looked down at the crumpled papers scattered across my floor. Writing poetry had always been my refuge, but now? Now, even that escape seemed out of reach. I glanced at my guitar hanging beside the wardrobe, but I didn’t have the will to play.
What now?
Before I knew it, I was scrolling through my messages with Cecile.
“You’re so talented, Joel,” she’d written, and her words brought Jemmy to mind—Jemmy, who had only truly known me in her final moments.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Jemmy had said, tears filling her eyes. “It’s a hidden talent,” I’d wanted to tell her, one that hadn’t fully formed until I lost you.
“Music completes me too,” Cecile had said, and at the time, I hadn’t thought much of it. But now, knowing she’d lost her sister, Celine, to sickle cell, the words weighed heavier.
“There’s a thin line between love and grief,” I’d told her once, thinking she knew that from the books she devoured. But now I understood—she knew grief far better than I did.
Losing a parent was one thing. Losing a girlfriend, another. But losing a twin? That’s a pain that stays with you, a part of yourself gone forever. Though I never knew my twin—he was stillborn—the bond we shared in those few months was real, and the sense of loss had lingered ever since.
“I feel like I can trust you, Joel… maybe because we’re so close in age,” Cecile had said once. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now?
Now, Essy’s words rang in my head: Cecile had feelings for me. It all started to make sense. But how? How could she have fallen for me so quickly when I only saw her as a friend?
The kiss…
Did I kiss her because I loved her? Was I truly attracted to her? Or had I just seen Jemmy in her and couldn’t stop myself?
“Promise me you’ll move on from me, Joe,” Jemmy’s last words echoed in my mind. But how could I?
How could I forget you, Jemmy, when you’re all I think about? How could I move on when I see you in everything, in everyone?
Cecile’s words echoed differently now. Her admiration, her care—it all blurred with memories of Jemmy. Had I really tried to replace Cecile with Jemmy? Had I spent these last two months pretending Cecile wasn’t Cecile at all?
Is that why I kissed her after ignoring her for weeks?
“Oh no…” I groaned, collapsing onto the floor. 
“What have I done?” I grabbed the painting of Jemmy from my desk and hurled it to the ground.
“It’s all wrong!” My scream echoed back at me, leaving me raw, exposed, and more vulnerable than I had been in years.
“Will it ever end?” I whispered, as the tears streamed down my face. “Will it?”
---
A/N; What do you think, guys?